


Rabbits and Wolves

by tsundri



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Self-Insert, Slow Build, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundri/pseuds/tsundri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rates of opening businesses are on a rise in the Gothic era of 19th Century London. As a top-notch business owning, middle class, independent woman, you are always under the watch of society and friends as you struggle to keep yourself afloat in a world of politics, business and social economics. Being someone that has been brought up to become a proper lady for almost the entirety of your existence, perhaps the unusual presence of a mischievous rook  will  break the barrier between classes as he brings you to places that you would never think of visiting before. It is up to you, however, to allow these experiences in becoming something that will either keep you buoyant or become the cause of your descent.</p><p>UPDATE: </p><p>(20/2/2016) Hello guys! I'm back and well! I hope people are still excited about this story ^_^'' I am working on chapter 5 right now so please do bear with me. Expect an upload very soon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day of the Week

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Assassin's Creed.
> 
> Emily, Jane, Jonathan and Harold are original characters of mine that I have created and will be making appearances in several chapters. 
> 
> Important Note: I will only be uploading this story here (in AO3). If you were to come across this story in websites that I have not mentioned, please do inform me and report the author as soon as you can. You would be doing your part in preventing any form of plagiarism from occurring.

A bead of sweat ran down your temple as you glanced at the pocket watch that rested on the gloved palm of your hand. Despite it being spring, the cold breeze did not help with your current situation.

“Oh Dear, I am absolutely late!”

As a middle class woman living in 19th Century London, you found yourself with a schedule that is constantly filled with mundane activities such as learning to play the piano, painting, and attending social events. You are actually currently on your way to a particularly important social event in St. James Park as you are going to be meeting with a few of your close business partners that may determine whether you will be able to have a clothing branch of your own right in Piccadilly Circus. However, at this point, you would most likely miss your appointment for tea with your (hopefully forgiving) friends. If only you had not offered your carriage driver a week-long holiday yesterday. Nevertheless, your legs kept on pushing you forward.

“I blame that piano teacher of mine for insisting that I stay to chat!” You muttered to yourself.

Several minutes later, you showed up to the location of your meeting, tired and out of breath. All four of your business partners already seated on their chairs awaiting your arrival, each with either a teacup or a piece of paper in their grasp. As soon as you are able to let out a breath without gasping, you made yourself present as you walked closer to the table.

“Hello, friends.” You greeted.

They glanced at you and rose up from their seats to greet you back, Jonathan was the first to speak, “Nice of you to finally join us, (Name), it is very unlike you to be late.” Jonathan; the _big brother_ amongst your circle of comrades. One would think he was an actual blood relative of yours with the extent of responsibility that he feels he has over you. Of course, he still understands that you can care for your own person. After all, he has observed you grow over the years in business from a naive little caterpillar that can barely reach for the leaves into a butterfly that can now flutter beyond its necessary altitude. Jonathan is a tall fellow, very straight posture covered by expectedly well-tailored shirt, coat and trousers and shoes. His slender face accented by a perfectly combed moustache and black hair that is not completely untouched by the whites of age hidden under an also tall top hat. Clearly, he was a man of high standards.

“My apologies, Jonathan—“ you were cut off by Emily.

“Goodness, you look like you ran all the way here!” Ah, Emily; _the loudmouth_. You would say that in the most endearing way possible. Who needs to write letters when you can just have Emily speak? Word would travel just as fast (if not faster) with her volume and ability to gossip… Or in her words; _“acquire and share useful information”_. Admittedly, her _talent_ has its uses in both business and social politics due to her charismatic nature. In terms of appearance, let us just say the loudness of her voice matches the loudness of her clothes. She would wear the most extravagant of dresses. Fine silks and fabrics drape her form with her favorite floral prints patterning every surface of her large skirt and sleeves. Let us not forget her equally enormous hat and fan that she religiously takes around with her to shade her well-defined face. Light brown braids, long-lashes, wide eyes, sharp red lips and a natural blush, it is no wonder she found herself a husband so effortlessly.

You scoffed at her comment and sat down with the rest of them, “Would you believe me if I say that I actually did?”

“Now why would you go ahead and do that?” One of your other business partners, Harold, questioned incredulously.  _Pitiful_ would be the word you would use to best describe Harold. A man of medium stature, curly brown hair, average fashion sense and his most significant feature; his pea-sized confidence. Nowhere near as charismatic as Emily or as poised as Jonathan, he struggles with low self-esteem and gets uncomfortable when talking to people he is barely acquainted with.You have only seen him smile once in your life and you can only wish he would do it more often.

“Unfortunately, my piano instructor insisted that I stayed back longer for a cup of tea and I couldn’t bring myself to decline her offer… She must be very lonely as a widow in her dizzy age. Also, I gave my carriage driver a week off; poor man must be dying to go back to the countryside to meet his wife and children. But enough about me, how are all of you?”

You were met with silence however as the rest of the party just looked at you, gob smacked by what you had said.

“What?” You asked.

Jane, the most timid and polite member of the gathering finally broke the silence, “You are a very kind person, Miss (Name).” Jane… _Fragile_ is the word you would like to describe her with. A fairly new addition to your group. Small frame, modest clothing, round face and soft features, she appears almost doll-like. As if the porcelain on her cheek would crack upon the slightest contact. In terms of attire, pastels were her colour of choice and feathers were her favourite accessory. White feathers would line the ends of her sleeves, collar and hat. Her appearance garnered her a nickname from the group; _Dove_.

“O-oi, what is this nonsense you speak of, Dove!” You blushed at the sudden compliment and proceeded to hide it behind your lace fan.

“B-but, it’s true, Miss (Name)!” Jane said in admiration. She has always had a habit of complimenting you in whatever you do. You try not to let it get to your head, however.

Emily butts in and agrees, “She is absolutely right, my Dear! I quite hope that I don’t sound too much like your mother but I find it hard to believe that someone as lovely as you has not been courted. I would very much like to have nephews and nieces of my own, you know!”

Your eyes move to Emily in exasperation, “We’re not even related, Emily. Also, why don’t you worry about your own relationship before mine, hm?”

Emily completely ignores your statement and yells in genuine excitement, “I’ve got it! You ARE seeing someone, aren’t you? But in secret! And you won’t tell us because he’s not who we might expect! Oh, how scandalous!”

Everyone (except for Jonathan who is rolling his eyes at Emily’s usual antics) looks at you in shock, convinced that Emily’s conclusion may be the reason why you have never been in a legitimate romantic relationship.

“Who is he? A rival businessman?” Harold questions. “What!? No--”

“A priest?” Emily accuses. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“The beggar you gave money to yesterday?” Jane quietly asks. “Absolutely not!”

A moment of silence ensues.

“JONATHAN!?” The three of them ask in shock.

“You’re all mad…” Jonathan interrupts. “And I am happily married, thank you very much. Now, I’m sure Miss (Name) would very much appreciate it if you would all stop pestering her. She’s had a long day as it is.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” You sigh appreciatively.

“You’re very much welcome, Miss (Name).”

Emily frowns, “Hmph, you’re no fun, Jon…”

Despite how you would usually react to their comments, you actually really do care for the people that you surround yourself with and they know that. However, the earlier discussion managed to burrow its way into your mind and you began to wonder. After years of linear and constant planning on creating a proper future within your field of business, perhaps there were greener pastures awaiting your presence in your love life if you would only make the effort to go that far. But as soon as that thought made itself known, a mirror appeared, instantly invoking a reflection on the idea. You have heard many stories of successful women that have gotten married and in exchange everything including their businesses must be handed to their spouses, leaving the women with nothing but the wedding ring on their finger as a form of self-identity. That has always been a fear of yours, losing your independence, leaving it in the hands of a man.

_I am going to die alone, aren’t I…_

“Miss (Name),” Harold says waving a piece of paper in his hand, “I’ve gathered a list of several spaces that are currently available for rent right in Piccadilly Circus for your dress shop. Also, I have—“

You interrupted him, “Sorry, wait a minute, I believe we’ve discussed this. I know which space I want. All we have to do is discuss payment and contract signings.”

Emily added, “N-now, hold on, (Name) dear, all of us here believe that we’ve found better alternatives to the one that you have requested. We ask that you give these places a chance before rejecting the idea completely.” You could sense how nervous Emily was in her voice, knowing her, she hardly ever stutters.

“I don’t understand. In case you’ve forgotten, I have made it clear in our last meeting that I would like to rent the space north-west of the fountain, east of Dolman & co. and right where the tea importer branch used to be before it closed down.” You glanced at the others in suspicion.

While the others (excluding the ever stoic Jonathan) appeared uneasy, Emily seems unwilling to back down, “Are you sure, (Name) dear? I-I mean… last time we went there to check on it, I remember smelling a pungent odour coming from one of the rooms. I don’t think that’s appropriate for a top-notch dress shop like yours.”

One of Harold’s eyebrows rose up in confusion as he looked at Emily, “Really? I don’t remember smelling anything—“ suddenly the table rattled. Unbeknownst to you Emily had kicked Harold in the shin below the iron table. The pained expression on Harold’s face changed as quickly as it had come and he nodded whilst adjusting his top hat, “A-ah, oh yes, I remember… that smell, yes I did! I know what you’re talking about!” He laughs nervously. Jane begins to mutter in her sweet voice, “Um, I believe what they are trying to say is that perhaps the space that you’ve chosen isn’t most suited for your business, Miss (Name).” Jane, who usually agrees with your decisions, is also trying to convince you to rethink your choices.

You finally bring yourself to look at your stoic companion, “Jonathan, what is going on here?” Jonathan sighs in disappointment at the others and turns to you, “(Name), I regret to tell you that due to recent events and circumstances, we cannot follow through with the settlement of your shop where you want it to be located.”

Your eyes widen and your brows curve downwards in anger, “What? Why??”

“Unfortunately, someone has already bought the spot and is already planning on constructing a pub there  as we speak.” The others stiffen within their seats.

“That’s impossible! I thought we’ve already booked the space!” You state.

Emily politely speaks in defense, “We did! And I tried to convince the landlord to keep it for us but he said that he’s already made his decision and has given the space to another buyer. ‘You were too slow,’ he said, the gall…”

The expression on your face turned to worry, “There must be something we can do! This isn’t legal… we’ve already claimed the area! He can’t just go around and give it off to people like newspapers!”

“In a way, he can.” Harold says, “It is his property, and we haven’t signed any official contracts in order for the odds to be in our favour…” You slouch in disappointment, completely forgetting about your usually lady-like posture.

“Actually,” Jane mutters hopefully, “A verbal contract is as official as any. And the landlord did agree to keep the space vacant for our use.”

You stood up from your seat and looked at Jonathan once more, a determined look in your eyes, “Jane is absolutely right! You say that the buyer is still planning on constructing it, correct? We can still stop this before it is too late!”

Emily joins, “Yeah! How dare that oaf of a man break his promise to us?” Emily scoffs, “A pub? We don’t need any more drunks roaming the streets of London in broad daylight.”

Harold stands up attempting to calm the ladies down, “Now, ladies… Let us not do anything brash. I would suggest thinking twice before negotiating with the other buyer.”

You crossed your arms and look at him, “Why?” Harold replies, “Well… He’s been notorious lately around parts of London as quite a…”difficult”… negotiator.”

Your eyes widen out of curiousity, “Who is this man?”

Jonathan looks up at you; eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, “Mister Jacob Frye.”


	2. Acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining with me on the second chapter! Please continue to support me.
> 
> This chapter may seem slightly slow.

A woman gazes out a window, temple resting on the papered surface of the hotel’s wall.  It has only been two hours since the rendezvous and here you were, staring beyond the fountain of the Circus right at an empty shop directly across. Your grandfather’s shop… Well, what could have been your grandfather’s shop if he had not passed on 4 years ago. The items he made and sold were in significant contrast when compared to your own. Apparently, your grandfather sold unique high quality weaponry to anyone that needed them. Back then, when you saw knives and such being displayed by the window, you never asked why he would sell such things, the child you were merely saw them as gardening tools. But as time went by, you finally understood. Brass knuckles and rifles were not for hoeing soil despite what your grandfather claimed. _Ridiculous._

Others often wonder: Why didn’t he just hand the business over to his son, your father? As a lieutenant colonel of the British army, he is not the most educated in the area of business despite his high rank and your grandfather knew this. Thus, the reason why he stated in his will that his business should die along with him. _What a waste. But still, Rest in Peace, grandpapa…_

Every time you were to pass by his shop, a pleasant wave of nostalgia would always carry itself towards you. You would remember inhaling the fragrance of your grandfather’s cologne intertwined with the rich smell of mahogany. Your grandfather always loved mahogany, even making sure that his own walking stick was crafted from the same material. You looked down at the cane that rested upon the thigh of your dress, the one thing your grandfather left for you. The length of it was completely made from red mahogany; the only part that was not made from wood was the handle. One unique personality of this cane came from the handle in its own which was carved directly from pure gold by your grandfather himself. As strange as you thought he was when you were a child, it did not help that the subject of his choice (for the handle) to be a rabbit’s head.  When you asked, he would jester and say, “You wonder, but you and this rabbit are very much alike, my dear!” Thinking about what he said now, it really puzzled you. _What did he mean? That I am prey to the rest of the world? Perhaps he was referring to all women?_ Maybe his words were what subconsciously ignited your desire for independence. _Or maybe he was just fooling around._

“Miss (Name).”

Your head lazily twisted to voice behind you, it was one of the maids of the hotel, “Yes, Clarence?”

“Are you feeling alright? Would you like for me to get you anything?”

You examined your surroundings; you forgot that you were still standing in the hallway of the hotel, “I’m alright, Darling. Just slightly troubled is all.” The maid nodded in understanding, “I will fetch you some tea.” She walked off, leaving you alone once more.

You released a heavy sigh from your lips and your mind drifted to your current business dilemma of not being able to build your dress shop, “What am I going to do now…”

 

 

*

 

 

You awaken the next morning. Your lips part in a yawn and your arms stretch high above your head. You had hardly slept actually, worry kept you from sleeping comfortably; it was a nuisance trying not to think about your shop’s progress.

_Ugh, I have to settle this issue as soon as I can before this Mister Frye finalises his plan on making that pub… and before I die from the stress. It’s no use negotiating with the landlord; he’s already made his decision. I’m going to have to speak with Mister Frye himself._

You groan as you rise from your hotel bed and prepare for morning meal in the breakfast hall.

After putting on your dress, shoes and hat, you glance at the cane leaning against the foot of the bed. _Perhaps I should bring it with me today for good luck. It might be unusual to see a woman carrying a cane, though. Oh well…_ With that thought, you carried it with you.Other days, you would usually leave it in your room (either in the hotel, your apartment, or your parents’ house) but you would always make sure that it was in the same room as you wherever you slept; a habit of yours that formed out of the blue.

As you head down the large staircase, you notice Clarence wiping one of the glass windows, “Good morning, Clarence.” She halts and curtsies towards you, “Ah, good morning, Miss (Name). I hope you’ve slept well.”

“I hoped for such last night, darling. Would you please be a dear and have someone clean my room for me?”

“Of course, I will send someone there right away.”

Mr. Winston, the owner of the hotel (and close friend of your grandfather), suddenly exits from one of the other rooms, whilst adjusting the sleeve of his coat he looks up and notices your form and approaches you, eyes bright and lips curved in a smile, “Oh, Hello, (Name)! How do you fare?”

“I’m well, Mr. Winston, how about you?” You greeted. “I am absolutely famished, my dear. Would you like to join me for breakfast?” was his jolly reply as he offers his arm to you. You smile and accept his offer as you place your hand on the crook of his arm, “I’d be delighted Mr. Winston!” The both of you then proceed to head downstairs. _Mr. Winston is always so jolly regardless of his age. I do hope I become like him when I get older._

Once you have reached the breakfast hall, you internally clapped in excitement as you glance at your plate. Breakfast consisted of two fried eggs, sausages and bacon, all beautifully positioned on the plate handed to the both of you by the hotel servants.

“I will never tire of your hotel’s breakfast choices, Mr. Winston. If it weren’t for all of my things, I would happily choose to stay at your hotel permanently,” You compliment. Mr. Winston looks up from the newspaper he was reading and smiles at you, “Oh, nonsense, (Name). I’ve tasted your mother’s cakes before. This is nothing compared to what she can do!” Your mind drifts back to your mother’s occasional home cooked meals and you smile at the memory, “I suppose that’s true.” You continue to dig into your meal. Your eyes wander around the hall, and then all of a sudden your thoughts go back to your shop and Mister Frye. You glance at the man across from you. _Maybe Mr. Winston can help me…_

You clear your throat as you attempt to gain the attention of Mr. Winston. His eyes move up to you for a split second but went back to working on the food on his plate, “Is there a problem, my dear?”

You spoke, “No problem, Mr. Winston. I was just wondering… Do you happen to know a man that goes by the name Jacob Frye?”

Mr. Winston’s movement’s halted completely and his lips curved downwards unusually. You hardly ever saw the older man wear such a negative expression on his face. _Oh no, should I not have mentioned him…?_ You felt the tension thicken. Even though the breakfast hall was filled with chattering people, it felt incredibly quiet at your table, until you heard the rattling sound of Mr. Winston setting his cutlery down onto the plate, knife and fork perfectly parallel to each other.

His eyes made contact with yours and he gently smiled once more, you could barely tell that it was forced, “Yes, I do. Why do you ask, (Name)?”

You begin to fidget, “O-oh, um… I just need to discuss an issue I’m having with the construction of my shop with him. It turns out we bought the same vacancy and the landlord had decided to give it to Mister Frye even though we’ve booked it first.” At this, Mr. Winston’s eyes closed and a hand was brought up to his bearded chin in thought. After a few silent minutes his eyes opened once more, “Mr. Frye is an… acquaintance… of mine. His actions can get quite unpredictable. It would be in your best interests to keep your distance from such a man.” Your eyes furrowed at his response but you respected it nonetheless, Mr. Winston is often right, “I see.” With that, you had decided to end the obviously touchy subject. _No matter, I’ll acquire information elsewhere then._ Once your plate has been emptied of its contents you had decided to take your leave. Pushing yourself up using your cane, you bade farewell to your beloved friend.

“Do take care of yourself, my dear (Name).” He smiled.

 _It’s a perfect day for an afternoon stroll._ As you head out the entrance of the hotel, you pull out your white parasol from the rack beside the door, placing it above your head to shield yourself from the gentle caress of the sun. With your cane in the other hand, you began your stroll along the cobblestone streets of the Circus, mind heavy from lingering worries. _All of this thinking will surely ruin my skin._ _I need to lower my stress levels somehow._ Shortly after, your eyes catch a small stall positioned across the street that appeared to be selling all kinds of flowers. You immediately find yourself approaching the ladies at the stall.

“Lilies and roses for your loved ones! Brighten their day for only 5 guineas!” One well-dressed woman yelled out, a basket of flowers hooked to her arm. She notices you and smiles, “Good morning, miss! Would you like to buy a flower for your husband?” You bashfully smiled and nodded, “Yes, please.” _No use explaining to her that I don’t actually have a husband._ You glance within the contents of the basket and smile when you notice your favourite flower, “I’ll have two of those Lent Lilies, please.” She nods and grabs them, “Perfect choice, miss. Five pounds, please!” You looked up at her, “I would normally charge ten pounds for two but for you, I’ll make an exception.” _What a kind lady._ Your eyes brighten appreciatively, “Why, thank you.” You lean your cane on the stall’s table as you reached for your purse in your coat pocket. But just when you had given the money to the shopkeeper, you felt a strong gust of wind behind you, and you turn to see that your cane was missing. You gasp and see the man that had stolen it running off. Forgetting the flowers and dropping your parasol, you jog after the thief, yelling out for help as you did so.

“Miss, your things!” You did not even bother to turn to the shopkeeper. You cried for help, “Someone, please, help! That thief stole my cane!” Thank Goodness for the kindness in people’s hearts, someone actually responded to your call for help. A man ran past your form, “Don’t worry, madam. I’ll get him!”  He then went after the thief in incredible speed, disappearing in a corner where the thief had gone. You turned in the corner of the sidewalk and there you saw the thief on his back, your cane in his hand and the stranger standing above him.

Your savior speaks, “If you would please hand over the cane…”

The thief throws it at the man and scrambles on to his feet, “Here! Bloody take it! It’s not fucking worth it!” He then runs off.

The stranger catches it and stares in boredom at the fleeing snatcher, “Pathetic git…” You approach him from behind and let out a cough. His head turns, acknowledging your presence, “Ah, here you are, madam.” He hands your cane over, “Do be careful, next time.” You briefly assess the man that stands before you: large build, low top hat, open coat, strange accessories... _Is that a pistol?_ Then your eyes cast upon his face. The sun shone on the fair canvas of his skin, further illuminating the smile on his face. The glint in his eyes accented the vibrant colour of the irises. His beard added emphasis to his chiseled jaw, and a small part of his left eyebrow was missing the hair; you guessed it was likely due to an old wound as small hints of a scar could be seen on the surface.   _Oh, my… He’s quite rugged looking… and handsome._ Unknowingly, you had been rudely gawking at the stranger before you.

He noticed this and chuckled, “Madam?”

You jumped, startled by his deep voice, “Huh? Oh, yes, thank you very much for helping me, kind sir. I don’t know what I would’ve done had I lost this.” You curtsied as you took the cane from his grasp. He tipped his hat with a smirk, “It’s not a problem. Anything for a lady in need.” Suddenly, he took your gloved hand in his and bent down, giving the back of it an alluring kiss, all the while keeping his eyes fixated on yours. You were left awestruck as he stood back up and turned to leave, “Farewell, my lady.” He disappeared around the corner, back where he came from. Your palm reached your cheek, feeling the heat radiating from it. _Oh, dear… What is this feeling? Am I getting a fever?_ You then realized that you had forgotten to ask him his name. You turn abruptly around the corner to catch up to the mysterious stranger, only to find no sign of him anywhere. _What a shame… I’ve wasted my chance. Who knows when I’ll be meeting him next…_ You huff in disappointment and brushed back a strand of your hair that had managed to escape your braid. You no longer desired to spend the rest of your day strolling. After what had happened, there is no chance that you would be able to relax outdoors. As you were heading back to the hotel, it did not occur to you that the man who had saved you was watching over you from the rooftops, following you as you were heading back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye makes an appearance. The reader still doesn't know who he is. How will she fare?


	3. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments go a long way guys. That's what actually motivated me to complete this chapter. So, thank you!

The moonlight shines upon the brick walls of Westminster. So late in the evening, it would be unlikely to find any of the middle (or upper) class citizens wandering the streets. Tonight is different however, as Ignatius Winston (commonly known as the ever jolly Mr. Winston) can be seen warily walking towards a peculiar destination, accompanied by a rook. As he trails behind the brute of a man, his hand brings out two photos that he had from his suit pocket of his late best mate and another of his mate's granddaughter, (Name)… the only reason behind him even walking with a gangster on this night. He really thought of you like his own daughter. _The things I do for you, my dear…I’m sure your grandfather would heavily appreciate it._ Not long after, the brute in front of him stops upon a door, freshly painted green, much like the clothes clad on the rook. He proceeds to open the door and Ignatius Winston cringes at the sight. Winchester’s underground fighting scene, the largest amongst all of them. _(Name) would go bonkers if she ever knew jolly old Mr. Winston was the type of person to be found around the Rooks and in illegal fight clubs._

“Follow me,” said the brute. Ignatius’ ears barely heard him. Not because of his old age but mostly due to the shouting and cheering of the spectators present in the arena. As the brute pushes in between the crowds, they finally reach the edge of the ring. Ignatius fails to see the person he is expecting. The brute notices him looking around in confusion and points his thumb towards the fighting ring, “You’re going to have to wait until he finishes the round, mate.” Ignatius glances up to where the rook was pointing to see Jacob Frye without his beloved top hat and shirt, beating his way around the platform.

Several men beaten later, the announcer comes up, initiates the ending of the fight and announces Jacob as the winner. Even louder shouting and cheering follows after. Ignatius almost brought his hands to cover his old ears but maintained composure. Jacob comes down shortly after, notices Ignatius and approaches his current position, arms spread out in welcome. “Ah! Iggy Winston! What brings you here, ol’ chap? Finally going to put those hands to good use and indulge yourself in a bit of underground fighting?” then Jacob’s expression changed from excited to that of boredom as he seats himself on a wooden chair, “Or do you have another lead on all that Eden business? If that’s the case please do yap about it to my dear sister while I sleep.” Before Ignatius could reply, Evie Frye appears from beside him and slaps a towel onto Jacobs face, startling him in his seat, “Jacob…” Evie looks at him warningly. Jacob pulls the towel from his face and mocks his sister, “Evie…” Evie rolls her eyes and apologetically looks at Ignatius, “Excuse my idiot of a brother, Mr. Winston,” Jacob lets out an exaggerated scoff, “As you well know, we would be absolutely thrilled to know if you’ve any new information on the Pieces of Eden.” Ignatius smiles at the more responsible twin and finally speaks, “Unfortunately, I’m not here for that sort of thing, Miss Frye. I do, however, need to speak to Jacob in regards to a personal issue.” At this, Evie’s eyes widen, gob smacked by his request. She points at her brother in confusion, “Really? Him? You’re being serious?” Ignatius nods and sighs, “I’m afraid so.”

“I can bloody hear you two, you know!” Jacob shouts from behind them.

Ignatius approaches Jacob in his chair, “Jacob, I’ve heard that you are planning on creating a pub near my hotel?”

Jacob raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, right where the tea importer used to be. Is that a problem?”

 “Well, it turns out that a friend of mine is also planning on using that vacancy for their own purposes,” chuckled the old man.

Jacob closes his eyes, “Well, your ‘friend’ is going to have to find somewhere else to do their business. The arrangements have been finalised and I bought it fair and square.” He then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head uninterestedly.

Mr. Winston shakes his head, “Now, from what my sources tell me, you had actually **stolen** that vacancy from another buyer. And that buyer happens to be a companion of mine.”

At this, Jacob opens an eye and looks toward Ignatius, “Well, the details of the transaction hardly matter, Iggy. What’s important is that I have it now and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Ignatius’ face dropped, “I expected just as much.”

A silent moment was shared. Jacob looked at the disappointed old man before him. It really intrigued him how much this was affecting a dangerous man like Ignatius Winston and this largely peaked Jacob’s curiousity. Who is this ‘friend’ of his? Why are they worth so much effort? What are they planning on doing with the shop if he were to give it up? Will it benefit him in any way? Honestly speaking, Jacob does not really care much for this pub for he had several others. But his principles just do not support the idea of giving his belongings to anyone that asks unless it benefits him in anyway.

However, his curiousity got the best of him and so he asked, “Who is this person that you even bother for?” Mr. Winston ears perked and his hope-filled eyes moved to Jacob’s. Then his eyes shifted once more, your face bombarding his mind. He pulled out the black and white photo that he had of you. He takes a quick glimpse of it before handing it to Jacob whilst pointing at the center where you sat, “(First Name) (Last Name); her grandfather was a very close friend of mine.” “Was?” “He passed away 4 years ago.”

Jacob casts a suspicious glance at the man before him but changes to mild shock when his eyes followed the tip of Richard’s finger. Then a barely visible smirk made its way onto the curve of his lips. _Well, what a bloody coincidence._ It was hard not to recognise her as the woman whom he had run into yesterday. After having seen how flustered you had become when he had kissed your hand, he almost laughed when he saw how stoic and emotionless you were in the photo. Honestly, Jacob has not been able to get you out of his thoughts since then. He had been feeling a strange drive within him that is so attracted to the idea of seeing your face again. He wanted to know how other emotions would look on your pretty little face. _So, (Name), that’s your name, eh?_ Without another thought, he almost jumps out of his chair, “I’ve changed my mind! Mr. Winston, I accept your request! “

With an expression of shock plastered on his face, Mr. Winston eyes moved to Jacob’s, “Why the sudden change of heart?” He questioned.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I know it is, mate. I just don’t want to tell you.”

Mr. Winston, although doubtful about Jacob’s intent, brushes it off. “Fine, all that matters is that Miss (Name) will be getting her shop back. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Frye,” They both briefly shook hands, “Also, make sure Miss (Name) does not find out that I had anything to do with this,” Mr. Winston turns to leave the club with a tip of his top hat.

Throughout this whole exchange, Evie Frye had been eavesdropping from behind Jacob. Her arms were crossed as she was leaning on the edges of the fighting ring. Her lips curved downwards in a frown. _Hm… (Last Name)…I feel like I’ve heard that name before._ The bridge of her nose wrinkles in deep thought. She fails to notice her brother approach her, “Something on your mind, Evie?” Her head raises and she looks at Jacob, “(Last Name). Does that name sound familiar to you?” Jacob blankly looks at her, “No.” Evie clicks her tongue in annoyance, “Honestly, your brain is as useful as a chocolate teapot.” Jacob smiles and drapes an arm over her shoulder, “Why, thank you, Evie! You hardly ever compliment me,” Evie’s palm reaches her face. _What a bloody idiot._ “I’m serious, Jacob. My mind is telling me it’s a name I should know abou--” a loud exaggerated snore interrupts her sentence, “For goodness sake, close your bloody mouth, Jacob! Can’t you listen to me for once!?” She punches his shoulder in frustration, “Haha!” Jacob laughs at Evie as he uselessly attempted to shield himself from her aggression, eventually Evie begins to laugh as well.

_He’s an idiot. But he’s still my brother._

 

*

 

11 ‘o’ Clock, The Next Morning

 

“(Name)! (Name)!”

Your feet halted their steps just as you had crossed the road. _Emily?_ You turned to find out who had been calling for you only to see none other than one of your business associates, Emily, frantically trying to get to you. You could only stare as she maneuvered several moving horses and carts, several drivers screaming angrily at her on the way. When she finally gets to you, however, she could barely get a word out. She was bent over and gasping for as much air as she could get before you.

“Emily? Um, is there something you need?”

Still breathing heavily, she straightens herself and looks at you, “(Name)! I have great news!”

“What is it?”

Emily grabs you by your shoulders, “Y-You’re shop--!”

“What? What about it?” You internally questioned her sanity.

“You’re getting it back!”

You grabbed her arms in shock, “What!? Don’t lie to me!”

“Do I look like I’m lying, my dear!?”

A sudden wave of euphoria erupted within you. You could feel the wide smile than grew on your parted lips. It almost felt like your cheeks were going to rip. Your grabbed Emily’s hands and the both of you began jump and giggle like children on the sidewalk, attracting the attention of several passers-by but neither of you found the need to care at the moment.

“Oh my goodness, that is amazing news, Emily!”

“I bloody told you!”

“How?” You asked, still incredibly elated.

“I have no idea. Harold told me earlier but before I could find out how, I just had to go straight to you!”

You shook it off, “No matter! What’s important is that we have the shop back!”

“(Name), my dear, this calls for a celebration!”

“I agree! Invite the others; we’ll meet up at Phil’s at half past 8.”

“Wonderful, I’ll get my servants to send the message. See you then!” Emily waves goodbye and dashes off across the street and into her awaiting carriage. _So that’s where she came from._ You chuckle as you shake your head. _We must’ve looked **balmy** … Two grown woman giggling like little girls… _Honestly speaking, you have not felt this excited and eager since the day your grandfather told you he was going to take you to his shop for the first time when you were just a girl.

 

*

 

7 ‘o’ Clock, Dinner at Winston Hotel

 

You sat at your usual table near the window with your plate, moon quite visible at this time of night. Mr. Winston arrives at your table, seating himself opposite you. The both of you would usually have dinners together as well every time you visited.

“Good evening, my dear,” said Mr. Winston, his white mustache framing his smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Winston!” Banter ensued after your greetings.

Mr. Winston face changes to that of worry and asks, “So, (Name). How’s the business doing? Do you still need help with your grandfather’s shop?”

You perked up, “Oh, actually, I have excellent news! Miraculously, Harold was able to take care of it. I now have my shop back!”

“My, that is good news. Congratulations, my dear!” He reaches over the small table to pat your shoulder.

“Thank you, Mr. Winston.” You smiled and continued to quickly finish your meal, aiming to get ready as soon as possible before heading to Phil’s pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Mr. Winston doing with notorious twins, Evie and Jacob Frye? 
> 
> Oh well, you got your shop back! Time to celebrate!


	4. Lush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying by me! 
> 
> Here's another chapter for all of you. I apologise if it is not up to your standards. I was really struggling to finish this chapter. Sorry if it's a bit muddled.
> 
> Info:  
> Reader's shop name is : (Name) & co.  
> Reader's favourite flower: Lent Lilies/Wild Daffodils - symbolic to meaning of flower; "new beginnings"

Half past 8 ‘o’ Clock, the Strand

 

A corner pub booms with life and laughter in The Strand. People were pouring in and out of the doorway like alcohol in beer mugs. One would be surprised to see how a generic pub could fit (what sounded like) a hundred people in one room. As soon as your destination entered your field of vision, you knocked on the carriage roof. “You can drop me off here,” Your carriage driver had decided to end his week off a couple of days early and return to you. “Thank you again for coming to help me, Michael.” You say to him as he assists you out of the cart. “No worries, Miss (Name)! I know how busy you can be. Besides, I can’t handle not working for several days let alone a week!” You laugh, “Oh, well. I’ll try not to spoil you too much then,” you jest, “I’ll see you at around 10 ‘o’ clock.” Your driver tips his hat, “I’ll be right here, Miss.” With that, you waved goodbye and walked off to meet the others. Your form miraculously managed to squeeze through the crowded doorway. Once you have entered, you let out a long breath of air, and your eyes scan the area but you fail to see Emily or the others. Your eyes furrow in confusion but managed to catch sight of the pub owner, Phillip Brown, inside the bar filling in drinks for the customers.

“Phil!” You waved. He looks up and sees you, “Hello, love! The others are waiting at the back. Drinks are being served by the waitress.” You thank him and proceeded through a doorway leading to another less-crowded section of the pub and there you saw Emily, Jonathan, Jane and Harold bunched up on a large round table, drinks already in their hands. You spread your hands out in dramatic greeting, “Hello, ladies and gents! How are you this fine evening?” Their heads turn towards you, and as usual, they stand up to greet you back. Before you could bring your arms back down, Emily eagerly walks up to you to give you a bone-crushing hug, very unlike her, “Oh, (Name). I’m glad you made it!” You hug her back and look at the others in confusion; they merely shrug and chuckle at your predicament. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Emily,” she pulls back from the hug and invites you to sit, “Tonight; we celebrate the expanding of our business! I wouldn’t have been able to achieve this without all of you by my side as business partners and as friends, and I thank you for that,” You brought a vacant glass up, “So, I would like to raise this glass to hard work and friendship--” “And (Name) & co.” Jonathan interrupts.” You smile, “And (Name) & co., Cheers!” You all gulp down on your drinks. You (being very weak with your alcohol… so weak that the timid Jane can hold it better than you), started coughing after your second gulp. Jane immediately gets out of her chair and pats you on the back.

“Th-thank you… I got a little too excited there…” You say in between coughs.

“Please do be careful, Miss (Name)!”

Emily bursts out in laughter, “Oh, poor (Name)… Still can’t hold down your liquor?”

Jonathan smirks, “She obviously can’t. Also, please refrain from drinking too much. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last year.”

“Don’t patronise me…” You wipe the tears off your eyes.

Your conversations went on like this for a while. Shortly into the night, a band started playing in a large corner of the pub. People started dancing with each other, whether they knew each other did not matter at all; they just wanted to enjoy themselves and have a great time. They began waltzing amongst the sounds of the high paced staccato piano and violin. You really wanted to join in on the fun.

“Oh! How exciting! People are dancing!” You clapped and bounced excitedly in your seat.

“Are you sure you’re sober enough to even stand, darling?” Emily jokes.

“I know you are, but what am I?” You snarkily retorted.

“That didn’t even make sense, my dear.”

Jonathan stands up from his seat, “If milady wishes to dance so much, we shan’t hold her back. This is a celebration of her success after all.” He walks in front of you and holds his hand out, his well-groomed mustache framing his smile, “Would you like to dance, milady?” You smile brightly and giggle at his request, “How kind of you, Jonathan. You’re making me blush!” You stagger out of your seat and placed your hand on his as he brought you to the throng of dancing people. He led your slightly drunken form as you danced, your slippers frequently hitting his leather dress shoes. He did not mind, though. You spun with him in a waltz, it almost made you dizzy.

“Thank you, Jonathan. For everything, I mean. Not just for the dance.” You chuckled.

“You’re quite welcome, (Name). I must admit, I enjoy managing your business with you. Besides, who else is going to keep you in line? Surely, not Emily. I can’t even recall how many times she’s gotten you into so much mischief. And Harold enables her behavior.”

“You’re like the older brother I’ve never had.” Your eyes started tearing up, “Jonathan, thank you for looking after me!” All of a sudden, you started sniffing.

Jonathan started to get flustered, “O-oi, (Name). Don’t start crying now!”

“Okay.” Your tears were gone as soon as when they appeared. You began to laugh again in drunken happiness.

Jonathan sighs in relief but shakes his head at your abrupt change in emotion, “You’re insane.”

“Oh, thank you. You too!”

Jonathan smiles at you. Your dance with Jonathan was cut short when he passes you to the other male dancers that have been waiting for their turn with you. You felt bloody fantastic. You could feel the alcohol running through your veins, numbing you of any troubling thoughts. The bottom of your dress turns with you, flaring with your movements, further fueling the fire of excitement within your soul. You honestly felt like you were spinning around in a meadow, breathing in the refreshing smell of morning dew and grass – even though you were really breathing in the smell of gin and whiskey. In the midst of your high, you had failed to notice a particular man watching you from the side. Once you have grown tired of dancing, you walked back towards the table and slumped into your chair. Your hand immediately reached for your mug but Jonathan managed to beat you to it.

“I believe you’ve had enough, (Name).” Jonathan says.

Emily interrupts, “Oh, come on, Jonnie. Live a little! It’s not often you see her enjoying herself like this. Wouldn’t you agree, Harold?” She turns to Harold only to find his visibly tense form staring off into the distance. “Harold!” She nudges him. Only then did he flinch at the contact and look at her, “Y-yes?” He blurts out. “I asked you if (Name) should continue to celebrate.” His eyes shift several times, “O-oh, yes! Of course!” He let out a nervous laugh. Emily crosses her arms, “What in the world is the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Without their knowledge, he had actually been sneaking glances at one of the most terrifying men he had ever met – Jacob Frye -  and he was standing right here in the same room, leaning against the wall at one end of the pub. Prior to the event in which (Name)’s shop had been returned, Harold had the honour of encountering one of Jacob’s infamous rooks. They had then proceeded to lead him – or actually threaten and carry him – to their leader. He sat a good hour or two on a moving carriage seat across Jacob whilst being interrogated (or verbally abused) before being handed the lease and a signed contract for (Name)’s shop. He remembered in detail how Jacob’s face appeared to be one of a carefree or even kind nature but was juxtaposed by the jade kukri knife that he held in one of his hands. “We will give you your precious shop back… only if you would remain in service to the Rooks,” said Jacob. Harold had stupidly decided to ask why but only received a punch to the gut as an answer from one of the rooks sitting next to him. “Every time you are to see me in public, you are not to confront me at all.” He quickly agreed to the terms in fear for his life and was thrown out of the carriage along with the paperwork.

Sweat was imminent on Harold’s brow. “P-perhaps I’ve had a little too much to drink.” He rose up, “I believe it’s time for me to leave now. I’ve got quite a lot of work to do back home. Congratulations, again, Miss (Name).” He bows before striding off towards the exit, obviously eager to leave. Emily scoffs, “That Harold never liked crowds anyway.”

The night progresses further and your state of intoxication had not gotten any better. Well, in a way it got better for you because you feel absolutely wonderful, almost to the point of becoming numb. You did not even realise you face was planted on someone’s shoulder until Jonathan was there to save you. “Alright, I think it’s time for you to go back to the hotel, (Name).” says Jonathan, helping you up by your hand and lower back. “Oh, there you are, waitress. I’d like another glass, please.” You handed your glass to Jon. “(Name), it’s me.” You face wrinkled, “I don’t care who you are. I would like a drink!” Jonathan shakes his head and guides you out of the pub, waving goodbye to Emily and Jane on your behalf. They nod their head in understanding as you left. Jonathan immediately saw your carriage and gently brought you inside the cart, telling your driver to drive slowly and help you once you have reached the hotel. You were clearly reluctant to leave the pub however you were not exactly strong enough to push yourself past the men nor did you really have the desire to. Instead, you leaned your head against the seat of you cart, “I’ll be expecting that drink, waitress.” Jonathan only smiles at that and replies, “Of course, Miss (Name),” and leaves you.

Michael begins to drive the cart. As it is currently a few minutes past 10 ‘o’ clock, it would probably be another 15 or 20 minutes before you were to reach Winston’s.  You lean your head on the side of the carriage, hat almost entirely covering your face with your legs straight along your seat and hands lazily folded on your thighs. Your eyes drift closed, comforted by the bumpy movement of the carriage, meanwhile talking to yourself about your desire for another pint. You did not even notice when Jacob Frye had abruptly entered the cart until he had spoken after several minutes, amused at what he has witnessed, “Sleepy?” You jump and straighten yourself in your seat, pulling your hat back to see who was in the carriage with you. “You!” Your finger rudely points at the man before you (an action you would never do if you were sober). “Hello,” He smiles, arms spread on the seat behind him. “What are you doing here?” You ask. “Well, I noticed that you were in Phil’s pub. I would’ve asked for a dance but you seemed a tad busy. You are an excellent dancer, might I add.” You blush and shyly push him on the shoulder, “Oh, aren’t you a charmer.” He takes notice of your hand and his own makes contact with it, gently pulling you closer, “Only to you, darling.” His smoldering gaze catches yours. For a moment, your eyes found themselves mesmerised by the brown hue of his own droopy ones. They slowly drift down the bridge of his nose then to his pale lips. You barely notice the distance almost disappearing between the two of you. You are going to do it; you are going to kiss this man whose name you do not even have any prior knowledge of. You did not care though, this was what you were determined to do, that is, until you had been interrupted by the sound of the cart door opening and Michael yelling, “Cor blimey!” in surprise. Without thinking, you had pushed Jacob back into his seat, shock evident in both your faces. Michael looks away awkwardly, “Um, we’ve reached the hotel, Miss (Name)…” Your head nods repeatedly and you quickly stumble out of the cart, pulling Jacob with you as you ran up to your room inside the hotel.

You push him past your door and close the door behind you, letting out a large breath of air as you did so. You look up at the man you just basically threw in your room. _This hardly appears inappropriate._ Jacob only begins to laugh. You looked at him incredulously. _He’s laughing? I just threw him in my room and he’s laughing?_ Perhaps it is true that laughter is contagious because not long after, your lips curve upwards and a giggle escapes them, slowly turning into a fit. Before you could realise anything, Jacob had grabbed you by your hand and the small of your back. You gasp at the sudden action. “You know, I do believe you owe me a dance, madam?” He says alluringly. You chuckle and play along with his games, “How can I refuse a request from such a dashing man?” You place your hand on his shoulder and the both of you begin to sway in a tender waltz. A couple of minutes have passed before you steadily halted in your movements and once again you were struggling to keep your eyes away from Jacob’s. He notices and pulls you in, lips merely inches from each other. _His eyes… They’re so… beautiful…_ Unfortunately, you had lost consciousness. Your weight completely pushing itself upon Jacob’s shoulder, he almost tumbled off his feet before regaining balance. He looks down at your slumped form on his shoulder to check on you before smiling and shaking his head. He had seen you flustered, he had seen you drunk, and now he has seen you asleep and he did not even get to tell you his name yet. At this point, he just had to laugh at his current predicament. He balances you on one of his arms before carrying you to your bed and draping the duvet over your frame, taking off as much of your accessories as appropriately possible to ensure your comfort. He turns to leave but not without leaving a little souvenir on your bedside table for you to find when you wake up.

 

*

 

The Next Morning

 

Your eyes open and squint from the sunlight pouring through the curtains. You massage the ache in your temple as you pushed yourself up, groaning as you did so. You examine yourself and your surroundings, your gloves, shoes, hat and accessories are missing from your form but you manage to find them on your dressing table. _What exactly happened yesterday?_ You squeeze your eyes shut as you tried to remember. You remember heading to Phil’s, then drinking… _I shouldn’t have taken that pint._ Out of the blue, you recalled that at some point the man that had saved your cane was in your room. _Wait... What?_ Suddenly, the blurry image of his face being very close to yours appears in your mind. The blood quickly rushes to your face. _No… Oh dear…_ You start to panic and climb out of your bed. You check yourself and you look around your room. There was no sign of any strange activity that may have happened last night nor was there any sign of the man. You pull your hair back and turn to your bedside to grab at a hair pin on your table and that is when you notice a letter neatly placed on the center. You picked it up and unfolded the piece of paper to find a briskly written note inside. It said:

 

_Dear Miss (Name),_

_I enjoyed the time I had with you last night._

_You are likely to not have remembered what happened. However, do not fret._

_I have merely decided to accompany you back to your room after your night of festivities._

_I am looking forward to the next time we meet._

_Perhaps, then we would be able to know more about each other._

_Yours,_

_Jacob Frye_

Your heart flutters in girlish excitement at the first few sentences until you see the name. _Jacob… Frye?_ In a split second, your mind put the pieces together. Jacob Frye was the person that took your shop. He was the one that you were with last night. _Does that mean he was also the one that helped save grandpapa’s cane?_ The answer to your question sat still on the wooden surface of your bedside table.

A bright yellow lent lily, present on the nightstand.  

It brought a smile on your face, your headache long forgotten. _He remembered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys can't recall, the reader's cane was stolen whilst she was buying lent lilies (a.k.a wild daffodils). 
> 
> Jacob knows this, and gives it to her as a symbol of affection and also as confirmation for her to realise that he was the one that helped her then.
> 
> There maybe some unexpected pairings in the future ;)


End file.
